


Jealousy

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Starsky & Hutch RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-29
Updated: 2004-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and me work better than me and Jackie, would you just stop, for christ's sake just fucking stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving some stuff over from Livejournal.
> 
> [Note: Owen was on Jay Leno a while ago and mentioned, mockingly, that Ben got incredibly jealous whenever Jackie Chan was mentioned on the set of 'Starsky and Hutch'. thus, this.]

Owen stretches his legs and leans back with a tiny satisfied sigh, letting his head drop onto Ben's shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He smells aftershave and leather and smiles a little, turns his face and burrows his nose in the collar of Ben's jacket. "Mm," he hums contentedly, feeling the sun on his shoulders and the back of his neck, "wake me up when we're needed back on set."  
  
Ben sighs and mutters something and crosses his arms, the movement causing his shoulders to shift, which causes Owen's head to roll forward. Sleepy and off-balance, he tumbles, head crashing into Ben's lap, body falling firmly to the floor.  
  
Owen blinks, looks up. Ben's face is etched with anger, his eyes narrow, his jaw clenched. The sunlight filtering in through the window does nothing to diffuse the lines of frustration, just shadows them, makes them deeper, makes him look even more upset.  
  
"What?" Owen asks, and sighs inwardly. He runs one hand through his hair, mindful not to mess it up too much because he doesn't really feel like sitting in the makeup chair for fifteen minutes while they fix it _just right_ , and then drums the heel of his hand against Ben's knee. "Ben, what?"  
  
Owen knows what Ben's going to say before he even opens his mouth. It's the same, always the same, since they've started filming, and Owen doesn't know what to do about it any more, except listen. Listen, and reassure.  
  
He's hard pressed to keep back a smile when Ben mimics his movements, one hand through his tangled hair and then fingers tapping at his leg, and he wants to tell him - there, you see? Jackie never did that, Jackie and I never had each other figured out down to the last little thing, you and me work better than me and Jackie, would you just _stop_ , for christ's sake just _fucking stop_.  
  
But he doesn't, just curls his fingers around Ben's knee and waits.  
  
"It's nothing," Ben says finally, and Owen groans.  
  
"Ben," Owen insists. "Goddamnit."  
  
"It's nothing," Ben repeats, forcefully, and then stands up, fists clenched. Owen tilts again and slams his head on the chair. "We're on now," Ben mutters, and walks away.  
  
Owen groans again and taps his forehead against the seat, doesn't bother getting up because they'll yell when they really need him. Jesus, he thinks. Jesus.  
  
::  
  
The end of the day comes with painful slowness. "That's a wrap for today, guys," Todd calls, and Owen slumps against the counter bonelessly. He buries his face in his hands and presses his fingers against his eyelids in an attempt to alleviate the shooting pain behind them. It doesn't work, of course, and he sighs.  
  
When he looks up, Ben is standing there staring at him, his expression slack, hazy, and it takes Owen a minute to comprehend the fact that they're alone, and he wonders how long Ben's been watching at him.  
  
"Look," Ben starts, and then Owen steps forward, and he stops. "Look," he says again, and tugs on the hem of the towel in a way that could be nervous and could be something else entirely, eyes going everywhere but the towel around Owen's hips, "I'm sorry for earlier."  
  
Suddenly, ridiculously, it clicks in Owen's mind, and he grins. Of course. Of _course_.  
  
He thinks he's probably pretty stupid to have not gotten it before, but then. But then what, he doesn't know, he just doesn't like to think of himself as, you know. Stupid.  
  
Owen advances another step and then another, when Ben doesn't back away, and before either of them is really aware of it he's right in front of Ben, and their faces are millimeters away from each other, and Owen doesn't fail to notice the heavy rise and fall of Ben's chest.  
  
"If it means anything," Owen whispers, tilting his head so his forhead is pressed against Ben's, "I never did this with Jackie." And before Ben has a chance to protest - though Owen doesn't really think that he would, but just in case - he kisses him, slow and soft and warm.  
  
There is a gap of time, only a second or two, before Ben kisses him back, and it is with the same sort of quiet intensity that Ben does everything else, and there is something so wonderfully familiar about the whole thing - even though it's never happened before - that it seems only natural, that it seems like it should have happened a long time ago.  
  
Which, Owen thinks. Well.  
  
Somehow or another they make their way back to the counter, and they turn so Ben's back is pressed up against it, and Owen worries briefly about marks and bruises but then decides, fuck it, and pushes his hips into Ben's with a low groan that echoes back at him, only Ben-pitched and hotter.  
  
"And this?" Ben gasps into his mouth, and the sound of his voice is fiercely possessive, and that sends a shiver down Owen's spine that's anything but unpleasant. Ben snakes one hand between them, tugging both towels off at once, and Owen hisses at the contact of skin on skin and it's a moment before he can even think about responding.  
  
"Never," he mumbles, and when Ben shudders hard against him, shudders hard and then goes still, head dropping limply onto Owen's shoulder, he adds, "save that for you, man."  
  
There is a pause, and then Owen can feel Ben's smile forming slowly against his skin, and he has a feeling things are going to be okay now.  
  
And then Ben's hand wraps around his cock, steady and sure, and Owen thinks - better than okay, definitely, definitely better.


End file.
